I freaking love baking – drunk AND sober! (I know, I’m a woman of many talents). I spend hours going through cookbooks and websites, just snatching recipes here and there and then dumping piles of fudge, shortbread, and Rolo-filled snickerdoodles on the unsuspecting Cheerleader I Live With. I try to not be so blatant about it, and I try to hide them, but when he goes to the freezer to grab another bag of Brussels sprouts *WHAM!* he’s faced with 15 Tupperware containers full of candy, cookies, and random assortments of loaf-type snacks. Then he gets mad. The worst part is that the freezer is right outside his office door. Poor bastard.

That’s one of the biggest reasons why I like Christmas. It’s the one time of the year that I can actually get away with baking a gazbillion* different things without anyone thinking that I’m an addict, or a hoarder.

So, if you know anyone who could offer me a job, and if you care anything at all about The Cheerleader I Live With, please pass on my resume. Otherwise, come January, I’ll be writing about The Walrus That Was The Cheerleader I Live With.